Absence
by WiltedDaffodil
Summary: Based off of 'Dripping Mascara' by Genevieve M. Contains mild spoilers for anything before chapter 124. This short-story tells the 'what-if' tale had the late Alfred Ruscuiti and his son been united.


**This story is based off of the original novel 'Dripping Mascara' written by Genevieve Marshall. I do not own any of the following characters; all rights belong to her.**

 **!SPOILER WARNING!: DO NOT PROCEED UNLESS YOU HAVE COMPLETED DRIPPING MASCARA OR HAVE AT LEAST READ UP TO CHAPTER 124.**

 **'Absence'**

It had now been 12 long years that Alfred Jr. had lived without a dad, and 12 long years of growing up without him. As Alfred stared upon the harsh grey stone that represented one of the only physical emblems of his father, his mind dared to think about everything that could have been, if his father were here, right now.

Fathers' Days - much like this one - often led to hazes of unfulfilled prospects and a desperate longing that he, too, would experience the bliss that came with fatherly love. Sure, he had a wonderful mother and family and his favorite Uncle Matthew who indeed acted as a father to him, but they would never truly be able to fill the void deep within him that his one and only father could. And yes, he could never truly miss something that he'd never known, but he could most certainly feel its absence.

With his hands in his pocket, he kicked around a few pebbles with the bottom his shoe and squinted his eyes as he moved to the foot of the gravestone, taking a seat on the ground and leaning his back on the side of it with his eyes closed. This was one of the only ways he could feel physically close to him. Haunting - in a way, yes - but it was all he knew and he was willing to accept it. He was grateful for the life he had, though, knowing others had it worse, but was also smart in allowing himself to feel for a while in the areas that he needed to.

With his eyes closed and his head resting back on his father's grave stone, Alfred's mind serenaded him through a series of thoughts - dangerous and obscure waters as he knew - but refreshing nonetheless.

He thought back to the first time he gave his Uncle Matthew the Fathers' Day card that he had made in school on the Friday before. He remembered the tender look in his Uncle's glassy eyes as he accepted the card with a tear on his cheek. Alfred Jr. wasn't sure whether this reaction was good or bad, but was quickly reassured as his Uncle dropped to his knees to give him a hug, then looked Alfred in the eyes to tell him that his father would be so proud of him. Tasting his next words cautiously, though, his Uncle continued to speak –voice slightly quaking and eyes averting Alfred's gaze as he barely whispered that 'his father was a hero'… But Alfred, however, noticed that each year within this building tradition that his Uncle gained confidence in his notion and was now able to tell him - smiling and looking directly into his eyes - that his father was indeed a hero. Alfred never quite understood what his Uncle meant, but he was happy that his own role model saw his father as a good person.

And so, Alfred's thoughts ventured into all of the conversations he would never take breath with, and all of the soccer games he would never play, camping trips to be left untouched, and all of the affectionate teasing now left undiscovered. So with this, Alfred's fantasies of potential love and relation with his father was reduced to nothing more than the tears now running down his cheek and the small burst of warmth in his heart whenever he thought about him. As he rose from his seat at his father's grave with his eyes still closed, he felt the presence of someone in front of him. It was probably his mother, ready for her turn with her lost love as per their Fathers' Day ritual, and so he opened his eyes to receive the hug that they both needed. But when he opened his eyes, a man (whose face he had only memorized from pictures) stood before him with red-rimmed eyes that spoke forth a thousand words of magnitude greater than the essence of his brain could produce, and sparkling blue eyes that he often saw in the mirror.

His jet-black hair refused to touch the light and his watery smile could turn the sunshine into rain as he held his arms open for the boy that stood in front of him. Alfred Jr. reflexively dropped to his knees, face contorting in pain and disbelief as he cursed the world for doing him such terrible injustice on a day like this one. Upon this sight, the boy's father also fell to the ground, grasping at the knees of his son apologizing fervently for something he didn't do and for all the things that he ultimately _couldn't_ do... Alfred shook his head violently in incredulity as the interaction played on and he brought the man's tired face up to his own broken expression. He wondered if he should do this to himself, if he should let his mind overtake him with its fantasies, but with just one look into his father's eyes, one look into such an immense emblem of love -he knew it was all real. Relief and ironically tranquility coursed through his body as his father attacked him with a hug, a hug that he would never want to let go of, and a hug that represented not only a reunion but every sorrow and doubt buried within Alfred. Not a word was spoken and not a word was needed to convey the great magnitude of that moment.

oOo

After they both calmed down a bit, Alfred Sr. was the first to speak. As he parted from his son, head buzzing with emotion and sentiment, he remembered that he didn't have much time to be with him. Both of them still kneeling, Alfred Sr. held his son back by his shoulders and looked into his glassy eyes, noticing how its blue waves reflected the sunlight and making a note that they were an exact replica of how his own used to be.

"S-son." He spoke as if in disbelief that the word came out of his mouth.

"Dad?" Alfred Jr. responded as his father nodded to him with a teary-eyed smile. "How are you here?" he choked out.

"I... I don't have much time" He said as he gave a pained smile to his son. He continued. "You've gotten so big."

"How do you know?" Alfred Jr. asked innocently as he looked up at his father who now wore a slightly confused look. "You've never met me, so how do you know?"

"Because," Alfred squinted his eyes slightly to prevent himself from tearing up, "I'm your father… and," -he continued, his expression brightening a fraction, "And you can't get rid of me that easily."

Alfred Jr. couldn't help but brighten his eyes at the statement. He didn't understand how his father being here could be possible, but he knew that this was more than just an illusion and chose not to waste time wondering. "I look so much like you," he said.

"I was just about to say how much you resembled your mother," Alfred Sr. responded with a smile but his eyes darkened at his last word. "Your mother -how is she?"

"She... still loves you a lot, D-dad." Alfred sighed sadly. It was true. His mother had never found someone else after his father. A few meaningless dates here and there, but that was it.

Alfred Sr., at these words, again squinted his eyes, trying as if it would stop his feelings from broiling within him. But he continued nevertheless. "So how are _you_? Are you healthy? Happy?" he questioned his son as he placed a palm on his cheek.

Alfred Jr. nodded surely with a small smile on his face as he spoke. "Yeah Dad. Uncle Matthew and the others are great."

Upon the mention of his brother, however, Alfred Sr. stiffened and averted gaze for the first time during his interaction with his son.

When Alfred Jr. noticed this, he continued slowly, nodding while looking into his father's eyes. "He calls you a hero, you know."

Alfred's eyes visibly brightened, but he chose to no longer dwell on that topic, shaking his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts as he spoke. "How is everything in school?"

"Well, school is... school," he chuckled a little. "Mom helps me out a lot but I really love my drama class. She once told me that you tried out acting. Any… tips?"

Alfred's eyes softened as he brought his thumb up to his bottom lip to think about what to say. "Always be confident in yourself and your abilities. Always believe in yourself but be willing to put in the hard work that you need to get you where you want to be. I made _a lot_ of mistakes throughout my life, ones that I regret with everything in me, but it's okay to make mistakes. Don't let them define your life but also remember to look at them use them as a learning experience. Have faith and listen to your mother. Remember that what makes a man is not his ability to stand up strong and tall on his own, but his humility in accepting that he too can use the help and guidance of the people he trusts the most. Most importantly, know that you are loved and let that overcome any instances of self-doubt and discouragement that may ever fall upon you."

Alfred Jr. absorbed every word that came out of his father's mouth. This was an experience he would keep in his heart forever. When his father was finished, he went up and hugged him. "Thanks dad... -I asked about drama, but thanks. I... really needed to hear that."

"Ah, yes, but champ, isn't life just one big stage play anyway?" Alfred Sr. smiled as he spoke while shaking his head as he took in his son's attempt at humor.

Alfred Jr's eyes slightly widened as he remembered something. He pulled something out of his back pocket and held it out with his thumb and index for his father to see. "Dad..." he started nervously, "This is for you." He then handed his hand-made Father's day card to his dad for the first time in real life. "I... usually make two," Alfred said, his voice soft, "One for Uncle Matthew, and one for you."

As Alfred Sr. took in what was happening, his eyes became glassy. He stared in disbelief down at the card in his hand. It was in the shape of a blue button-up shirt, in the middle was a black tie and, at the top of the card, 'Happy Father's Day' stood out written with a green marker. Alfred hugged his son tightly while fighting the tears that sprung in his eyes. He read the card, but before he could respond, he felt his figure grow slightly dimmer. "I have to go in a short while," he said as he looked to his son with a tender smile, "But thank you... so, so, much Alfred."

His son's eyes widened before he spoke. "No dad, thank _you_. Thank you for being there for me and with me when I felt like I was alone, thank you for the warmth that you leave in the air whenever mom speaks about you, thank you for showing me your smile whenever I look at a picture of you for encouragement and thank you for loving me and mom, even if you were gone before I was born." His eyes were now red, but his father didn't have to even think before he enveloped Alfred Jr. into his arms. "Most of all, though, thank you for my good looks," he threw in, jokingly, to his father for what would be the last time.

"I love you so, so much, son," he whispered whilst chuckling as he felt himself fading away.

"I love you too, Dad."

And with this, Alfred Jr. opened his eyes to find himself still sitting against his father's gravestone. But he didn't even have to question it. He knew it was real. The warmth that retired within him could never be mistaken for anything else. He smiled getting up as he felt the absence of the Father's day card from his pocket, but his smiled deepened as he felt the presence of something new.

 **THE END.**

 **oOo**

 ** _Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading. If you enjoyed, (or even if you didn't) feel free to leave a review! This was a really interesting theme to pick up and write on, and it was also my first time at trying my hand on something like this. Alfred is a really awesome character who would be amazing to analyze and whose fundamentals would be pretty cool to explore. If you have any tips for me I'm more than happy to receive them. I would also encourage you to check out drippingmascara on Instagram or episode_DripMas in Twitter to see updates for the original Dripping Mascara from its original author. Thanks!_**


End file.
